


Dark one-shots

by Elizabeth_Night



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Graphic Violence, Multi, Murder, dark and morbid, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9640406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth_Night/pseuds/Elizabeth_Night
Summary: This is a collection of dark one-shots. There may be relationships and major character death. Consider yourself warned! Enjoy!





	1. Addiction

I never knew much about people until I took one apart, just to see how it worked. It soon became my addiction, to hear the muffled screams as I drug my knife through their skin. The feeling of their blood staining my hands as it pools in their wounds. I love the shade of red that is fresh blood, it's intoxicating, the only reason I dyed my hair the same color. I even enjoy the cleanup, watching my latest creation burn in the open field under the stars is satisfying beyond belief. Once a month I roam the streets looking for my next victim, like a drug addict looking for another hit. Finding the perfect subject is always crucial for my satisfaction, preferably a small male age mid to late twenties.


	2. What your trained for

I stared at the man in horror as he placed a gun in my hand. "Hit your target.", he commanded, his voice deep and dangerous, as he pointed to a boy tied to a chair. The boy looked terrified, tears streaming down his cheeks and mouth trembling behind the gag. "I won't, Mark!", I yelled with sudden bravery, but I cowered as fire rose in the black eyes of my master. "It funny that you think you have a choice," he said rising to a full five foot ten, "Now do what you where trained to do, Jack!" I didn't want to hurt the boy but I knew what happens when I disobey. Cocking the gun, I turned to face the target fully, and lifted the gun to aim. A shot rang through the air before it fell silent again.


	3. Should I Let Go?

There is someone in my head, but it's not me. It seems every day now I have a new battle inside me, I'm beginning to weaken. Nights fearing sleep, days fighting for control over my own body. How can I fight for much longer? Every breath I take, I can feel my sanity braking. My smiles are slightly wider, my eyes an insane gleam. Everywhere I look, blood and destruction. I can't continue this for much longer. What would happen if I surrender, and let it take control? How much destruction could it do? No, I can't! But what if I jump with it in my grasp, destroy it by destroying myself. A pistol lies in my bedside drawer, inside a single shot. Would it work? My life to save countless others? Should I let go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I left this idea neutral. I hoped you enjoyed it, and I hope to the Lord and Lady that my mother doesn't find my draft stash. I would have a lot of explaining to do! Oh well, a small sacrifice for your entertainment.


	4. He's a Monster

Every one saw him as evil, that wasn't a secret, but few knew why he did what he did. His early years were filled with abuse and neglect, his father having left when he was still an infant, and his mother blamed the poor kid. Even through the cold, hungry nights he continued to smile and even when the boy would cry, his smile would never fall. Like a ray of sunshine, peaking though the storming clouds, he continued to stay strong. 

Once a teen, he took care of his drunken mother with the patience of a saint. He would shop for food with the little money they had, cook and clean as well. The people who knew him would say, "He would never hurt a fly", but that all changed. The day he turned eighteen, he was gently woke by his sober mother with a small cake in her hands. For the first time he cried in joy, everything was going to be better now.

Life has a funny way of placing the hardest situations on the strongest people, he was so strong. The next day, the police showed at his door, his mother resisting arrest. Yelling, a gunshot, silence. Blood covered the floor, his eyes the same color. He let those people walk out the door that day but he swore, never again, would he let those people walk away from his sight. He still smiled, but it no longer reached his eyes.

Years of blood can truly give you a bad name. A sadist with a short temper and a gun, a harmless boy who was born to the wrong family, all titles given to him by people who never mattered. So remember, monsters aren't always born as monsters, some are angels with broken wings.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to use this idea in your own fic, I welcome it fully. Please remember this is just a one-shot, so please don't request I write a fic on this idea.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed that idea, if you have any thoughts or ideas please write them in the comments below. If you liked it please hit the kudos button below and thanks for reading!


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